Vida

I just read something beautiful and insightful written by a friend (actually I’m not really sure we are still friends, I don’t know how to qualify that in this age of internets. We used to be friends when we lived on the same coast but I don’t keep in touch very well. I guess if she blocks me from reading her blog I’ll know for sure we’re not); it was moving for me because it described a kind of malleable regret partnered with coping and past loss that I find myself very familiar with, yet not with the intensity that effects an emotional core – like losing a family member. I should feel lucky I guess because for me the feelings revolve around poor choices I’ve made in the past surrounding friends, music or personal relationships.

For sure this year has been full of reckoning for me, looking back earlier in the year on a show I played at Kimo’s the week before they closed for good, where I became so morose and agitated (and fueled by a fifth of jameson) that I ended up throwing my drums around the room and having a booze fueled ranting tantrum not just in public, but on stage. In about 20 seconds I ended the night, alienated the other bands players (whom I had become friendly with before we played) scared the crap out of the bass player, and decided to break up that band.

Chatting with the guitarist from the band that opened for us started the cascade effect because we both shared memories of playing clubs in the 90’s in SF – people, bands, and then the inevitable awkward moment of “You were in that band?!?! You guys were amazing! Whatever happened to you guys?” The room swam around me suddenly and elongated, like in those movies where the monster is coming down the hall and you can’t get away. Here I was, 20 years later playing in the same club on the same weeknight with a band I cared much less about musically, to almost no one with zero expected fiscal or emotional return. Pouring the same amount of time and effort into booking, promoting, scheduling and general anxiety about getting paying shows with decent audiences. Most of my friends have given up on this life many years ago and I assume are much happier for it. I love playing shows though, and the later the night got the less I could reconcile this feeling that I had wasted years of effort, and was continuing to pour considerable resources into a bottomless pit of no conceivable return – not even bragging rights on some kind of local music legacy. At least back then I was playing music with close friends whose company I appreciated, but back then I just figured if I kept at it, kept putting sincere effort and time into playing music and doing what I loved that it would naturally progress to bigger and better things; that’s the way it works,… or so I expected.

Now I realize the folly in taking that precept for granted, and though I am truly pleased, proud and excited for those of my friends (acquaintances?) who are now productive, recognized, astonishing and sometimes even lucrative artists, I still don’t totally get why I’m not enjoying some kind of similar result. Then it hits me in the middle of the set there at Kimo’s; the reason why - the X factor, I “just don’t have it”. Defining ‘it’ is for me, impossible obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this.

Which brings me to the real subject of this post – and by way of the ‘reckoning’ I spoke of earlier, a band called Vida. I played in this band and was allowed, hell - encouraged, to write, suggest lyrics, even sing songs and as a result it became a powerful and intense collaboration. I pulled out the CD and gave it a listen and when I got to the last song was kind of crippled by regret for a moment, it had no lyrics and I think was written (or maybe contributed to) by me. It brought a flood of memories on how I had suddenly been consumed by personal tragedy that I felt I could not overcome and quit the band in a stupid and selfish way. I wish I could go back and change that now, sing those lyrics I know that I wrote, see the band through its only release, play those shows.

The guitarist, Lynnea, is now playing bass in a really innovative and successful band in NYC as well as filming and producing her art. The Bass player, Erica, has a doctorate and a beautiful family in So. California and by all accounts is an actual accredited musician and successful in both personal and professional life. The engineer and producer of the only Vida release, ‘Playing with Matches’ was an icon of the 80’s – 90’s SF music scene, Tom Mallon. His membership in bands like Toiling Midgets, American Music Club and others inspired and influenced a generation of SF musicians and fans. I found out recently through a mutual friend that he has been very ill lately and though he probably doesn’t remember me at all, he made a hugely positive impression on me during the 2 separate records I made with him at his studios. I wish him well and hold out much hope for his full recovery. He quit music entirely about 10 years ago and as far as I know didn’t look back for an instant, despite being a world renown recording engineer and musician. I wonder how that feels.

Vida – Playing with Matches.

I love the way this album sounds, and I really like how I played on these tracks. I’m super glad I recorded this and take no small comfort knowing that those who were there with me might think back fondly on this time as I do, and that possibly they were as inspired as I was/am to continue on doing what they love most.

CAMPING!

the tree's are large here, they speak, but so slowly you cannot possibly hear them. Another week in the thick of them with occasional breaks to swim and play. So much I love for this time in the Redwoods, I can't possibly explain how much prestige and power they seem to convey. Then again I am probably insane and work from such abstraction in my thought process that it might just seem like meandering disconsolate babble. The true benefit is that it centers me and provides adequate tools to cope with unreasonable co-workers, deathly unproductive meetings and the frustration of not having an outlet on my schedule. We took our new addition to the family Louie the dog, rescued from the death chamber, a mutt of epic proportions and unknown history. A good doggie.

It was a really excellent jaunt and I wish that all the people I have been close to could have dropped by the campsite and set a spell so we could chat. I miss so many of you and I can't tell you because I don't know how.

Robot Farms

I wrote a song a few years ago that I then posted on a now-irrelevant social networking web site. It was actually based on a scary nightmare I had about human/cyborg fusions as a result of Nanotechnology. When I first learned about Nanotechnology it effected me the same way that learning about the destructive finality of nuclear war did; I was fucking terrified. If you want to listen to the song here it is: Robot Farm - Lyrics below.

There's a giant robot farm- somewhere inside brazil- waiting to capture you- thats where I live- they'll bring you to me- here in my shell- interesting isn't it- how robots have no feelings- how can you decide- who lives or dies- when there's no definition of whats alive- on the field of scars- on the robot farm- on the robot farm- on the robot farm- we invested in the microchip- that last run was really hot- whistling for fun- as we brought- from the fields- all the sentient ones- now they master- while we serve- and the thermals- have invaded the earth- bringing static levels- until we all bend- bringing havok- until the very end- on the robot farm